


Running Through the Wood

by raineavon



Category: Original Work
Genre: A little, Gen, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Psychological Horror, that's what I was going for anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raineavon/pseuds/raineavon
Summary: The woods are vast and the girl is small, but she runs even so.





	Running Through the Wood

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually share my original works and I have a whole other fic that I'm working on, but this was just sitting around doing nothing so why not. Kind of a late Halloween thing I guess. Beta read by a friend of mine.

Tsula’s heart pounds in her rib cage. There’s a thrumming in her ear. The bare pads of her feet ache with every step. Part of her is screaming to turn around. Part of her is terrified of the shadows dancing between the trees. Still, the greater part of her heart urges her onward, and for once, she obeys. She isn’t sure how long she’s been running. She isn’t even sure why she started in the first place. She is sure of only one thing; she cannot stop. 

Her chest burns as she narrowly avoids the cloying fingers of the trees. Her muscles scream in agony with every movement. Sweat runs down her brow. Only spite spurs her on. She cries her griefs to the shadows, “Mother yelled, Mother lied, Mother cried. Father hit, Father stole, Father teased. Brother was angry. Sister was cruel. They stole my name; they stole my soul.” Her eyes burn, her tears sear her flesh. She looks to the heavens, “Rosanna is not dead for she never lived; Tsula was killed and is now born again!” Laughter bubbles up in her throat, inexplicable and uncontrollable.

She is still laughing even as she falls to the ground, even as the rain begins to fall and she is soaked to the bone, even as lightning strikes and thunder crashes. She laughs even as the water rises. She laughs even as it fills her lungs. She laughs even as the world goes black.

* * *

It is warm and the grass is soft. Tsula can hear a child’s unearthly giggles. Her bones ache pleasantly with leftover sleep. She smells something like cherry tarts and chocolate. She debates briefly if it would be better to return to sleep’s warm embrace or to get up and search for the sweets. Her stomach makes the decision for her, growling loudly as the breeze carries yet more of the delicious scent to her. She stretches as she sits up, blinking the remaining sleep from her eyes. 

She’s in a place like she’s never seen before. The grass is orange and the sun is blue. In one direction, a vast expanse of forest of trees with tops hidden in the clouds, in the other, a shining field of sunset grass and moonlight flowers. Tsula can’t tell which is more beautiful. She wants desperately to explore them, but her hunger drags her away to a little house with a thatch roof. Pink smoke billows out of the chimney and the sweet smell has become tantalizingly overpowering. 

The door is open and she steps inside. “The tarts are cooling, but the tea is ready. Sit, drink,” an exotically familiar voice says from somewhere deeper in the room. Tsula remembers faintly that she isn’t supposed to take things from strangers, but she doesn't mind, sure as she is that she knows this voice. She sits politely at the small table standing just shy of the den and eagerly sips her tea. The drink is like nothing she’s ever tasted before; like warmth and sunlight, like satin sheets and down pillows in winter, like wildflowers that used to grow behind the house. 

She looks up to the shifting shadow at the window sill. The ever-shifting figure brings the tray of cooled tarts to their rack on the counter before setting two on a plate for Tsula. The shadow sits at the table’s head, eyeless gaze locking onto Tsula’s empty cup. The shadow pushes the teapot to the girl, urging her to take another cup. She pours the steaming liquid, only stopping when the tea threatens to overflow. She bites hungrily into one of the tarts, melting at its sweet flavor. Her shoulders sag yet feel lighter than air. She inhales deeply, savoring her first taste of fresh air in millennia. She begins to stand and the shadow stands too. It helps her pull the weighty skin off and folds it neatly on the table. Tsula takes another long drink of her tea.

“Thank you, Mother.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow this thing is short. Anyway, thanks for reading this weird thing that I wrote, I hope you enjoyed. Please leave any suggestion/criticisms in the comments. Have a good day/night!


End file.
